


Mine to Have, But Never Keep

by singingwithoutwords



Series: Silver, Black, and Gold [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (what even am i doing with my life anymore), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Withoutwords Finds New and Interesting Ways to Hurt Tony Stark, because my other soulmate au wasn't angsty enough i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 05:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10892748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingwithoutwords/pseuds/singingwithoutwords
Summary: Soulmates aren’t a one-and-done thing, not fate decided long before you meet.  Soulmates are slow, are formed, are built up on a foundation of time and love.  Tony has never needed the time, has always made up for it with an endless wellspring of love and a heart that has never been able to give of itself only pieces.  He has never known how to love tame, to love casually, to give only a little and be content to receive the same.(aka the even angstier soulmate au nobody asked for)





	Mine to Have, But Never Keep

_Sunset Bain_ blooms across his stomach in fancy loops that are never gold, are black and cold from the start, and Tony knows already that loving her is a mistake, but he hasn’t learned the art of walking away.  He keeps her name and accepts her false love and never looks for his own name on her skin.  Her name never leaves, even decades after she does.

 _James Rhodes_ takes his back, between his shoulderblades.  He feels it form but is afraid for days to look, and weeps when the mirror shows him glimpses of brilliant silver in bold, solid strokes.  He is afraid to show Rhodey, afraid and certain that Rhodey will shift and look away and confess that Tony’s name isn’t there.  He hides it for three years, until Rhodey bursts into his lab, _Anthony Stark_ shimmering on his arm and a question in his eyes.  He shows him, and Rhodey doesn’t ask how long Tony has had his name.

 _Edwin Jarvis_ has always been there, always decorated the small of his back in elegant silver script that feels warm to the touch when everything else is cold.  Tony winds up having to explain soulbonds to a newborn AI when _J.A.R.V.I.S._ joins it there during their first conversation.

(DUM-E has thankfully never known enough to be curious about his own designation on the inside of Tony’s left wrist; that conversation would have been much more frustrating.)

 _Obadiah Stane_ wavers on his thigh, quivers between black and silver as if it can’t decide which it should be.  In later years he looks back with achingly clear hindsight at the surest sign he was ever given, at the black-silver-black-silver of Obi’s name and the way his own name is sometimes on Obi’s shoulder and sometimes not, and wishes he had just once managed to love by halves.

 _Virginia Potts_ traces delicately on his side, in the space between his ribs, a gold that seems to glow.  It’s prophetic, almost, the way it touches and intertwines with the silver of _Harold Hogan_ beneath it.  He doesn’t know if Pepper ever has his name.  Never wants to know if it was gold or silver or never there at all.  Easier to comfort himself with imaginings, to be grateful neither name ever turns black and leave it there.

It takes all of a week for _Ho Yinsen_ to etch itself into him, above the crude hole in his chest.  Yinsen looks at him with something uncomfortably like pity that only deepens when Tony assures him it’s fine- Tony’s used to having names of people who don’t have his.  He has the agonizing privilege of watching his name form on Yinsen’s arm as the man dies, and carries Yinsen’s silver with him out of that cave and into a life he cannot let go to waste.

He can’t remember a time when _Steven Rogers_ hasn’t adorned his chest, hasn’t blended from silver into gold like two soulbonds in one name.  He can’t say he’s at all surprised when Steve’s file lists _Margaret Carter_ and _James Barnes_ and each and every one of the Howling Commandos.  _Anthony Stark_ never joins them.

 _Robert Banner_ forms in a matter of hours, silver threaded through with flecks of green, the meaning of which he never quite understands.  He’s long ago made peace with how often and quickly he gives his heart away, and how slowly and rarely it’s reciprocated.  He no longer thinks to ask.

He’s both surprised and not when _Natalia Romanova_ and _Clinton Barton_ and _Thor Odinson_ claim space on his skin.   _Natalia Romanova_ shines silver for days before turning black.   _Clinton Barton_ follows suit in minutes.   _Thor Odinson_ doesn’t, but its silver only serves to underscore the black around it.

He is resigned at the sight of _Samuel Wilson_ among the crowd.  Let it never be said that Tony Stark doesn’t eventually bow to the inevitable from time to time, and Sam is the kind of person who can make even a one-sided soulbond into a source of warmth.

There is one bewildering instant of _Wanda Maximoff_ in silver before it burns black on his hip.  The _Pietro Maximoff_ beneath it stays silver only because the kid died before it even formed.  He wonders sometimes what Wanda would do if she knew, if she would be able to remove it.  Wonders sometimes if he should ask her to try.

He almost breaks down completely at the first glimpse of _Vision_ over the scars where the reactor used to be.

There are people who claim that Tony has no names, that a person like him is incapable of loving anyone but himself.  There are some who think even Tony Stark has to have at least a few names; he wouldn’t be human if he didn’t.  He’s pretty sure no one would imagine the number of names littering his skin.  He supposes if they ever did, they’d be able to guess how many of them are black.  Tony has always loved quickly, and never loved wisely.  He knows that the ratio of people whose names he has to people who have his name is wildly unbalanced.  He can’t help himself.  He never learned to hold back, never learned how not to love without reserve or discrimination.  He might not be capable of either.

There are so many names on his skin that they overlap.  None of them ever vanish, like names from rejected soulbonds are supposed to, because Tony has never learned how to _stop_ loving, either.  He has hundreds of names, only a handful of which aren’t black.  He cherishes them.  Counts them every night to be sure none of them have changed.  Waits for them to turn black, too.  It’s inevitable: only the dead or the souls he created with his own hands are incapable of rejecting him eventually.

Tony loves; he is not loved.  That isn’t the way it works.  He is meant to give, not receive.  He has come to terms with that.  He knows and accepts it.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> I love hurting Tony Stark. I'm so sorry.  
>  ~~no i'm not~~
> 
> This is not going to become a series. Seriously. I mean it this time. I am definitely not going to write any more for this verse. Really. I'm not.


End file.
